


孝順 | filial, dutiful

by virdant



Series: 吃飽了嗎? | Have you eaten your fill? [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Communal Eating, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, Jedi, Jedi Culture, Jedi Culture Respected, Lineage relationships, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), jedi lineage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant
Summary: Most of the masters make rounds of the tables, finding members of their lineage, when green onion pancake is served. With Obi-Wan as part of Master Yoda’s lineage, Master Yoda will probably show up the minute Anakin gets back with his platter, wide eyes and long ears perked up as he cajoles a piece out. It was common enough when Obi-Wan was a padawan; Master Yoda would be halfway across the refectory, and the minute Obi-Wan got back with his platter, Master Yoda would be at their table making conversation with Master Qui-Gon, waiting for Obi-Wan’s impeccable manners to offer him a slice.--On food, and matters of lineage.
Relationships: Aayla Secura & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Yoda
Series: 吃飽了嗎? | Have you eaten your fill? [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832875
Comments: 28
Kudos: 194





	孝順 | filial, dutiful

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you procrastinate on the food fic you are trying to write by writing a food fic.
> 
> thanks to ellie for prompting me with green onion pancakes. 
> 
> \--
> 
> 孝順 (xiao-xun) | filial, dutiful

There’s green onion pancake at the refectory today, fresh and hot off the griddle. The line for it is long, as it always is, when the pastry is available. It’s a favorite among initiates, who line up by the droves to collect them for their tables. Crispy on the edges and soft and flaky in the middle, salty and savory, it’s an initiate favorite. It’s cooked in long sheets, cut into slices, piled high on platters. The initiates line up in droves for it; they aren’t allowed too many pastries, but green onion pancakes are savory, are crunchy and soft, and, like flatbread, are allowed in unlimited quantities. 

And the knights and masters were initiates once, and they remember.

Aayla goes off to line up for some for their table when they walk into the refectory while Quinlan gathers other offerings for their table: steamed fish and a vegetable stew that Aayla likes. Obi-Wan is dragging his own padawan through the options, pointing out which star system each option comes from. Anakin’s eyes are wide, excited, but Quinlan has a good feeling about the pastry. There’s a reason it’s a temple favorite.

He’s fetched fish and brought a pot of vegetable stew to the table by the time Obi-Wan’s done showing Anakin the selections today. Luminara’s already made it back, a platter of a tangy nerf dish her own contribution from the refectory options. Obi-Wan has a large bowl of noodles for the table to share, and Anakin is carrying a plate of steamed vegetables with a grimace on his face, no doubt coerced into fetching the vegetables at Obi-Wan’s behest.

“You lining up for the pancakes?” Quinlan asks Anakin. “Aayla went to get some, but who knows how much she’ll manage to grab.”

Obi-Wan looks yearningly over. “We should probably send another person to line up.”

The pastry takes longer than the other dishes—they’re best hot, fresh off the griddle, and while the dough is prepared in advance, it’s cooked to order, lightly seared on the oiled surface over medium heat. It’s hot work, frying the pancakes, flipping them to get them to cook evenly. It always takes longer, and the further back one is in the line, the longer it takes for each pastry to cook.

Aayla’s made it halfway up the line while the rest of them collected other dishes for the table. She looks like she’s been waiting an eternity.

Obi-Wan looks like he’s about to go line up. “You should send your padawan,” Quinlan interrupts.

Obi-Wan blinks, surprised. “Anakin?”

Anakin frowns at Quinlan, but Quinlan grew up in the creche, and he’s used to all sorts of angry expressions from initiates. “It’s a learning opportunity,” Quinlan says.

“For what?”

“Patience,” he suggests.

Anakin doesn’t seem convinced. “How is waiting in a line for food a lesson on patience?”

But Luminara is nodding, and Bant looks like she agrees too. Obi-Wan doesn’t look entirely convinced—or it could be the beard he’s trying to grow in making his expressions strange. Obi-Wan finally says, “You should go line up, Anakin. You could make some new friends with the others in line.”

It’s mostly initiates and padawans in line—Quinlan’s gone to line up for the pastry every time it was offered in the refectory, during his padawan years. The one time he tried to convince Master Tholme that he didn’t want to, Master Tholme called it a lesson in patience. And it was hard, waiting in line, trying not to crane his head too obviously towards the front to see how many people were in front of him, to see how long it was taking for another pastry to get pulled off the griddle. He’s spent many meals in line with Obi-Wan beside him, the two of them trying to pull off dignified patience, but mostly just bouncing with impatience.

Anakin doesn’t look convinced, still, but he goes. His arms are crossed as he joins the line, and an initiate, seeing his padawan braid, turns to interrogate him.

Obi-Wan, having only gotten a padawan recently, says, “I don’t know about making Anakin fetch pancakes for us.”

“It’s a tradition,” Quinlan points out, settling at the table. He starts doling out noodles for everybody. “I know you’ve waited in more lines than you can count.”

Luminara agrees, mildly, “I’ve never seen Master Yoda line up.”

Obi-Wan’s lips press together, but he agrees. All of them have memories of being initiates, sharing pieces of the pastry with Master Yoda. They’d collect it on their platters and carry them to tables, juggling slices of the pastry between their fingers to keep it from burning their skin. Master Yoda was always in the refectory when it was served, and he’d wander around the initiate’s tables, making conversation until an initiate would fold and offer him a slice.

Obi-Wan remembers. Master Yoda would sit and talk, asking them about their studies, about what they were doing. He’d spend time with every initiate, and it had seemed natural to offer Master Yoda a slice when he stopped by their table.

Bant nods over to where the initiates are gathered in their clans. Master Yoda is already making his rounds. “He’ll probably come here, too,” she notes.

Most of the masters make rounds of the tables, finding members of their lineage, when green onion pancake is served. With Obi-Wan as part of Master Yoda’s lineage, Master Yoda will probably show up the minute Anakin gets back with his platter, wide eyes and long ears perked up as he cajoles a piece out. It was common enough when Obi-Wan was a padawan; Master Yoda would be halfway across the refectory, and the minute Obi-Wan got back with his platter, Master Yoda would be at their table making conversation with Master Qui-Gon, waiting for Obi-Wan’s impeccable manners to offer him a slice.

Quinlan’s pretty sure that Master Tholme’s out of the temple, otherwise he’d already be hovering. Luminara’s master is already sitting with another knight—one who has a padawan—and is cheerfully partaking in the padawan’s spoils. Bant’s master is nowhere to be seen; they’re probably in the Healing Halls, still.

“It’s a tradition,” Quinlan says again, as Aayla finally reaches the front of the line, and waits for her serving to finish cooking. “Bant, you totally waited in line for your master, right?”

Bant nods. “I used to get sent down to fetch them back to the Healing Halls.”

“And I would also line up for me and my master,” Luminara agrees

“You gotta accept it, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan says, as Aayla makes her way back with a full platter. Anakin’s halfway through the line now, and he looks like he’s actually engaging in conversation with the initiates around him, arms gesticulating. “You’ve got a padawan now.”

Obi-Wan studies Anakin where he’s in line as Aayla makes it back to their table, drooping as if she’d been running katas non-stop for hours instead of just waiting in a line for twenty minutes. “A lesson in patience,” he says, again, but he doesn’t sound convinced. He sounds like he’s negotiating.

As initiates, they would take turns waiting in line. One would wait in line while the others ate, peeling off pieces with the tips of their fingers to keep the heat from burning their skin, laughing and giggling. By the time they were finished, the initiate in line would be back, and another would peel away from the table for their turn in line. As padawans, they’d get sent to wait in line by their masters. The line always felt longer than it actually was. They always knew that there was a table full of food and companions who were eating already while they waited.

And yet they did it. They had all done it. It had seemed completely natural, to wait and come back with the pastry, to come back to all of their favorites waiting for them. Master Qui-Gon would always set aside a large portion of Obi-Wan’s favorites when he came back with the pastry, and Master Yoda would scoop an extra serving of spiced stew into his bowl.

And it had been good, Obi-Wan knew, Quinlan knew, to come back with their platters full of the pastry. It had been good, the memory of sharing from their initiate years still strong. It had been good, the pleasure of a shared meal with their masters, the pleasure of common memories.

The pastry is piping hot when Aayla set it down, offering the platter to them. She hands Quinlan a slice, and serves the rest of them before snagging a slice of her own. Bant and Luminara share a slice, taking turns tearing off pieces, passing the pastry back and forth. Aayla licks her fingers when she finishes her portion, before digging in with delight at the vegetable stew. And it’s only a short moment later that Anakin comes back with his own portion and Master Yoda shows up to cajole a slice of the pastry, and Obi-Wan fills Anakin’s plate with stew and fish and spiced nerf.

The green onion pancake is as good as it always was: hot and crisp, the layers of the pastry thin and soft. It’s salty and savory and the flecks of the green onion are soft and flavorful.

Quinlan meets Obi-Wan’s gaze as Master Yoda continues to make conversation with Anakin, clearly angling for his invite. Anakin’s replying, expression guarded and bewildered. Aayla, used to Master Yoda’s conversations from her time as an initiate, is responding more openly. But Aayla’s platter has been eaten already, and it’s Anakin’s portion that remained.

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “Please join us, Master Yoda.” He says, “Anakin’s fetched green onion pancakes for us. Would you like some?”

“Good, is it?” Master Yoda asks, taking a seat.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. He hasn’t touched the portion that Anakin had fetched for them yet. But he doesn’t need to. It’s been a lesson in patience, but also a lesson in generosity and service. Obi-Wan learned those lessons as an initiate, as a padawan, and now he has a padawan of his own to teach them to. He’s a knight now, but he remembers: the simple joy of sharing and caring. “It always is.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> green onion pancakes, or 蔥油餅, are a type of [flaky pastry/flatbread](https://www.google.com/search?q=%E8%94%A5%E6%B2%B9%E9%A4%85&sxsrf=ALeKk02QbH75sYPzYuhVDSVgWkwQsFFhCA:1598072302531&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi8rqufg67rAhUDvJ4KHS29C9gQ_AUoAXoECBUQAw&biw=1838&bih=871). They're made with dough instead of a batter, which makes the term pancake a bit misleading--they really should be called a pastry--but that is the conventional translation, so i used it. They're very good, and they're best right when they're done cooking.
> 
> ❤️ Enjoyed it?
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